


The Umbrella

by skywalkersamidala



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersamidala/pseuds/skywalkersamidala
Summary: Lorenzo's umbrella is the only thing Francesco and Giuliano hate more than each other.





	The Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> I promise you there is a good explanation for this absurd fic, and it is: this s3 BTS photo (https://ibb.co/fqvTK9) which led to a discussion about how modern AU Lorenzo 100% owns this umbrella, and now here we are, knee-deep in absurdity ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Francesco loved Lorenzo almost unconditionally. “Almost” because there were two things Lorenzo loved which Francesco absolutely refused to put up with: Giuliano and the umbrella.

Francesco _had _tried with Giuliano. They’d hated each other in school, but when Lorenzo brought Francesco home for dinner for the first time to “meet” his family after they’d started dating, Francesco had decided that he and Giuliano were now mature adults well into their twenties and could put their teenage enmity behind them. But Giuliano hadn’t felt the same way, and the dinner may or may not have ended with a broken nose (Giuliano), a black eye (Francesco), and several pieces of Lucrezia’s best china shattered on the floor.

Francesco was just glad that Lorenzo, Lucrezia, and Bianca had all fully acknowledged that Giuliano had started the fight and none of it was Francesco’s fault, or else his and Lorenzo’s relationship might well have come to an abrupt end that night.

So Francesco had tried to at least tolerate Giuliano for Lorenzo’s sake, but Giuliano had refused to let him. The umbrella, though. That was a different matter. As soon as Francesco had laid eyes on the umbrella for the first time, it had become his sworn enemy. Every time Lorenzo used the umbrella, Francesco threatened to dump him, which just made Lorenzo laugh and say, _it’s just an umbrella, what’s the big deal?_

He didn’t understand. The umbrella was objectively a monstrosity. It was the kind of garish, touristy thing you’d buy in a souvenir shop for five euros. No, the kind of garish, touristy thing you’d buy in a souvenir shop for thirty euros even though it was only worth five.

The umbrella had a picture of Florence’s dome on it, with the effect that when you opened it, it looked like you were carrying around a miniature version of the dome. Lorenzo thought this was the greatest invention ever. Francesco thought it was atrocious. It wouldn’t be so bad if they lived in any other city on earth, but the fact that Lorenzo was carrying this thing around as a native Florentine? Disgraceful. He might as well put a sign on his back saying _I’m a tourist, please pickpocket me!_

(Francesco did actually have to fight off a pickpocket once when Lorenzo had the umbrella, which Lorenzo insisted was a coincidence, but Francesco knew the stupid umbrella had attracted the pickpocket like a big red beacon proclaiming its owner’s naivety.)

And thus Francesco loved Lorenzo _almost_ unconditionally, because honestly, it was very difficult to love him when he was walking around proudly carrying that umbrella. Forget love, it was hard to even _respect _him.

Francesco was far from the only one who felt this way about the umbrella. In fact, everyone Lorenzo knew hated it and told him so frequently, but Lorenzo wouldn’t hear a word against his beloved umbrella.

“Of course you brought that stupid thing,” Giuliano said with a sigh when Lorenzo and Francesco arrived at Lucrezia’s house for dinner one rainy evening in November. Lorenzo shut the umbrella as he came inside and propped it up against the wall to let it dry.

“I don’t get what everyone’s issue with my umbrella is,” Lorenzo said. “Francesco was walking ten steps ahead of me the whole way here.”

“I didn’t want anyone to think I was associated with you and that thing,” Francesco said.

“Huh. Respect,” Giuliano said with a grudging nod in Francesco’s direction. “The issue, Lorenzo, is that that umbrella is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s so _tacky,”_ Francesco added.

Lorenzo huffed indignantly. “This umbrella was a gift from Grandfather, I’ll have you know—”

“Yes, we know.”

“He _was _always weirdly obsessed with the dome,” Giuliano muttered.

“He gave it to me for my birthday when I was five, excuse _me _for appreciating it—”

“And did you never think that an umbrella suited for a five-year-old might not be suited for a grown man?” Giuliano said, leading them into the living room.

“Oh, Lorenzo brought his umbrella again?” said Bianca, who was already sitting in the living room with Guglielmo and Lucrezia.

“He sure did,” Giuliano said.

Bianca shook her head. “You seriously need to get rid of that thing, Lorenzo.”

“Why should I? It’s a beautiful and perfectly functional umbrella,” Lorenzo said stubbornly.

“Looking at it makes me want to kill you and/or myself,” Giuliano informed him.

Lucrezia deftly intervened before it could become a full-blown argument. “I think your grandfather would be thrilled that you still love that umbrella so much, Lorenzo. Now, let’s go into the dining room, everyone, dinner’s just about ready.”

* * *

November and December were even rainier than usual that year. Francesco was pretty sure the weather was mocking him. Also, his own umbrella (plain sensible black) broke one afternoon when he was about to go grocery shopping while it was pouring. “Dammit, dammit, _dammit,” _he said, trying to get the umbrella to stay open, but it refused.

“Take mine,” Lorenzo offered.

“I’d rather die,” Francesco declared, and he left the apartment umbrella-less and cursing the fact that Lorenzo’s stupid umbrella had sturdily lasted twenty-five years and his had only been good for five.

He and the groceries got soaked. To make matters worse, he ran into Giuliano on his way home. “Loving the drowned rat look,” Giuliano said from underneath the safety of his own umbrella (also plain sensible black).

“Fuck off,” Francesco said. “My umbrella broke and the only other one we have is Lorenzo’s.”

“Oh. Well, your decision is understandable, then.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know how that umbrella has lasted so long,” Giuliano said. “He’s had it since he was _five. _It’s almost older than me.”

“Tell me about it,” Francesco said. “That thing is indestructible. I’m pretty sure it’s protected by demonic energy or something.”

“Indestructible, you say?” Giuliano suddenly got an _I have an idea _look in his eye. Sure enough: “I have an idea.”

“That’s never good.”

“What if we destroyed Lorenzo’s umbrella?”

Francesco raised his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

* * *

Giuliano actually invited Francesco over to his apartment the next afternoon to work on Operation Umbrella Assassination, that’s how serious he was about it. “So I’m thinking I should be the one to actually break the umbrella,” Giuliano said. “Because he’d probably dump you if you did it, whereas I’m his brother and he can’t get rid of me.”

“I wasn’t aware you cared about my relationship,” Francesco said.

Giuliano scoffed. “Obviously I don’t, I just would feel bad making Lorenzo lose his umbrella and his boyfriend on the same day.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, here’s my plan,” Giuliano said. “Next time I’m over at your place, you keep Lorenzo distracted and I’ll deal with the umbrella.”

“That’s an extremely straightforward plan and I’m not sure why I had to come over for this,” Francesco said. “You could’ve just texted me.”

“We can’t risk leaving a paper trail, all communication must be verbal,” Giuliano said solemnly.

Francesco rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to keep Lorenzo distracted?”

“I don’t know, seduce him or something.”

“Oh, I see how it is, you only value me for my body. When you said you needed my help, I thought you’d need my cunning or my strategic mind or—”

“First of all, you’re an idiot and not cunning or strategic at all, second of all, I don’t value anything about you, let alone your body, and third of all, just shut up and fuck your boyfriend for the good of this family, if not all of Florence.”

“Fine, if you want me to that badly.”

“I don’t want you to at all, but unfortunately, Operation Umbrella Assassination depends on it. I mean, assuming Lorenzo loves you more than he loves the umbrella…”

“Honestly, it’s debatable.”

* * *

Operation Umbrella Assassination commenced the following weekend when Giuliano invited himself over to visit. Lorenzo seemed pleasantly surprised that he and Francesco deigned to be in the same room together and make small talk. “Isn’t it nice when we all get along?” he said happily.

“Sure is,” Francesco said, feeling a little guilty at Lorenzo’s naïve obliviousness to the disaster that was about to befall his most prized possession.

Just then, Giuliano made a show of “accidentally” knocking his glass over and spilling wine all over Lorenzo’s shirt. “Oh no!” he said innocently.

“Here, let me help,” Francesco said. He grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at the stain, which just made it worse.

“I’m sorry about that, Lorenzo,” Giuliano said.

“It’s okay, this is an old shirt anyway,” Lorenzo said. “Let me just go and change, I’ll be right back.”

He headed into the bedroom, and Giuliano gave Francesco a thumbs-up and a wink. Shaking his head at himself for agreeing to such nonsense, Francesco obligingly got up from the table and followed Lorenzo.

Francesco shut the bedroom door behind him. “Hey,” he said, walking over towards Lorenzo, who already had his shirt off and was taking another out of the closet.

“Hi,” Lorenzo replied absently, but he spluttered in surprise when Francesco grabbed the new shirt out of his hand and tossed it on the floor. “What are you—”

He cut off with an appreciative hum as Francesco crushed his lips against his. Lorenzo, who really was incredibly easy to distract via seduction, eagerly kissed him back and wrapped his arms around his waist. Francesco started steering him over to the bed until the backs of his knees hit it and he fell backwards onto it. Francesco climbed on top of him and kept kissing him, pausing only to pull his own shirt off over his head.

“But Giuliano…” Lorenzo protested halfheartedly.

“He’s on the phone with Simonetta, I don’t think he even noticed me leaving the room,” Francesco lied, and Lorenzo grinned and tugged him back down to kiss him again.

Francesco had just gotten Lorenzo’s belt off when the smoke alarm out in the kitchen started blaring. Lorenzo jumped, knocking his forehead against Francesco’s and making them both swear. “What did Giuliano do?” Lorenzo complained, which was also Francesco’s first assumption as to why the smoke alarm had been set off.

They scrambled off the bed and hurried out into the kitchen to see what the hell was going on. Francesco’s jaw dropped as he saw Giuliano, looking quite pleased with himself, standing in front of Lorenzo’s umbrella, which was lying on the ground while literally on fire.

“Giuliano! What the fuck are you doing?” Lorenzo yelled. Giuliano, to his credit, had set up several pots and mixing bowls filled with water nearby just in case, so Lorenzo grabbed one after another and threw them over the fire, which quickly fizzled out, leaving the sad charred remains of the umbrella.

Lorenzo gasped in horror. “My umbrella! Giuliano! What have you done?!”

“It was for your own good,” Giuliano said. “And everyone else’s.”

“What the hell were you _thinking?” _Francesco demanded. He really thought he was done being astonished at the level of Giuliano’s idiocy by this point in his life, but apparently not. “I thought you were just going to break it or something, not _set it on fire! _Indoors!”

“I had to make sure it was damaged beyond any possible repair!”

But Lorenzo was rounding on Francesco. “You were in on this?” he said, looking utterly betrayed.

“Um…yeah,” Francesco mumbled.

Lorenzo gave him an angry, wounded look. “Et tu, Brute?!” he said dramatically, and he gathered up what was left of the umbrella and stormed out of the apartment, then came back in, went to go put a shirt on, and stormed out again. Probably to give the umbrella a proper burial or something.

* * *

Francesco was seriously regretting his part in Operation Umbrella Assassination. He told himself it was just because Lorenzo had made him sleep on the couch for a week afterwards, but the truth was, he felt bad every time Lorenzo got that sad expression on his face whenever it rained and he had to use a plain sensible black umbrella instead. And Francesco felt even worse when he was looking through Lucrezia’s collection of photos on the mantle after Christmas dinner and came across a photo of chubby-cheeked five-year-old Lorenzo with his umbrella, beaming at the camera, one of his front teeth missing.

Francesco wondered what was wrong with him. He had destroyed something Lorenzo loved just because _he _didn’t like it. It was more than just a cheap tacky umbrella, it was a gift from Lorenzo’s grandfather, something he’d cherished for twenty-five years. What kind of shitty boyfriend was Francesco?

It was _mostly _Giuliano’s fault, Francesco told himself. He’d just been an accomplice, if not a pawn. But that didn’t make him feel much better. And so he found himself scouring every stupid souvenir shop in Florence for the next few days leading up to Lorenzo’s birthday.

“What’s this?” Lorenzo wondered as he picked up a long, thin package from the pile of birthday gifts.

“Who’s it from?” asked Lucrezia; the whole family had come over to celebrate.

Lorenzo checked the tag. “Francesco,” he said, turning to give him a curious look.

But Francesco just smiled. “Open it and see.”

Lorenzo tore off the wrapping paper and gasped as he saw— “My umbrella!”

“No!” Bianca groaned. “I thought it was finally gone!”

Giuliano turned to glare at Francesco. “Wow, just stab me in the fucking back, that’s cool!”

“I’m really sorry about the part I played in the, uh, loss of the old one,” Francesco said to Lorenzo. “And I know it had sentimental value, so this one can’t really replace it…”

But Lorenzo beamed and threw his arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love it!”

Francesco let out a breath of relief and hugged him back. “I’m glad.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop being embarrassed to be seen with me when it’s raining?”

“No way. I still hate it,” Francesco said. “But…I respect that you love it, because I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lorenzo said, hugging him tighter.

Giuliano mimed vomiting, and Francesco flipped him off over Lorenzo’s shoulder, their temporary alliance over as quickly as it had begun.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the ADORABLE fanart of this fic made by kael-san on tumblr!! https://kael-san.tumblr.com/post/187115963038/based-on-markantonys-s-fic-the-umbrella-thank and https://kael-san.tumblr.com/post/187631901343/im-sorry-for-this-but-it-has-been-raining-all


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